


weight of living

by aromaalibro



Category: Monsters of Verity - Victoria Schwab
Genre: F/M, Gen, Our Dark Duet Spoilers, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 10:42:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16038848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aromaalibro/pseuds/aromaalibro
Summary: “If I have survived, it is to do something. If I stay here, doing nothing, I might as well be dead”Kate will not stand and watch as her home, her city, her friends fall apart.





	weight of living

**Author's Note:**

> plot what is plot

 

_“do you like the person you’ve become under the weight of living?”_

― Bastille

 

* * *

 

 

the death count is lower than what they had expected, and yet it feels like a punch in the heart to have not being able to save more. they had still been innocents ended by an otherworldly hunger, a senseless massacre that held no fruit other than pain.

and it hurts. v city’s fate looms over her like an angry ghost. from the moment she had fallen on her father’s tower, stricken by (herself, her reflection, her mistake, her monster) Alice, she had seen the whole city being tore to pieces and chaos expanding from one place to another. her jaw had been slightly open, a blood-bathed cheek touching the floor and her eyes watching that small scene being played out on the bottom corner of a window that had definitely not been designed for noticing the mortals that may or may not pass by.

no, kate’s father had never cared about that.

(and there was a time in which _she_ hadn’t, either).

the wind blows slightly humid from yesterday's storm, and kate clutches her coat closer with her right hand. it howls, sounding way too loud to be just air passing through the half-abandoned, dirty buildings. (they relocated the survivors between the three city blocks, the ones kate and the rest of the task force are commanded to protect; this is not only a monster, but a ghost city).

“patrol ten” the comm says “report to base, i repeat, only to patro-“.

kate presses her finger against the mute bottom and retreats to the closest dark alley. in turns, the rest of the patrol goes away: mony steps back from a large house’s rooftop, her comm still buzzing, michael takes a turn around a corner, humming softly. colin stops, thought.

he moves his head sideways, taking a look around the empty streets. kate can’t see much from her place, but she can still notice the hunched shoulders and dragged feet, and she almost manages to feel guilty because damn they are all tired and maybe she is assessing the situation in the wrong way and she could-

but he leaves too, and kate is alone and that’s all that matters now.

a huff scapes her own lips as she relaxes her back against the wall. think, she needs to think properly like she hadn’t in a long time. her hands pat the pockets at both sides of her jeans until she reaches two small boxes. she opens the white one, pulling out a cigarette, and searches for a match from the other, red box.

the match lights at the first try. drawing the fire to the cigarette between her lips should be the next move, except it isn’t. she stares at her fingers instead, at the warmth spreading from the licking flames to her hand and the uncovered parts of her face.

and kate thinks.

“dammit”.

she pulls the thing out of her mouth and throws it to the ground.

 

 

 

the halls are deserted as she makes her way towards her barely breathable room at the end of the barracks. situations like this almost, almost make her miss her entire floor as kate harker, heiress to callum harker. almost.

there were bigger rooms available, and ones that didn’t have electricity or humidity problems. however, this one is the furthest from the most densely crowded areas of the building, and bigger rooms mean she would have to share, and she would rather endure the flickering light and the rotten smell than having to watch her back 24/7, thank you very much.

kate sighs and holds one hand to the door handle as she fumbles for the key. or would have, because the door opens slightly at the touch.

her jaw clenches, and in one movement she drops her bag to the ground and kicks the door wide open, damned be whoever had to fix the mess. she sees her bed first, a simple mattress on the floor and sees that none of her accumulated papers nor pencils have been moved in any way. her gaze settles at the corner of the room where the intruder sits, non-bothered. it takes her two blinks to recognize the long, willowy figure next to the recycled nightstand.

she furrows her brows together and finds herself scowling, expressing the first emotion she could identify that is not complete and total confusion.

“disappointed?” soro extends their pale fingers to grab another item from her scavenged basket. kate wants to shout at him but manages to compose herself enough to resist. why did she care anyway? those were just things she had found over the months in abandoned houses, almost none with valor: old cds, some casettes and a few postcards.

“about life? yes” her voice is dry. she stares at soro, reflecting on a more sensible way to express her thoughts “get out of here”.

they ignore her.

kate glances at the hallway. soon, people would come back from the dining hall, and she wanted to be as unreachable to the exterior world as she could when that happened. which she couldn’t with the intruder here.

she bangs the door against the wood frame, again.

“say what you came here for or leave”.

“i didn’t know you liked these type of music, sinner” the sunai raises a broken cd case with the letters ’50 best pieces of classical music’ printed in a celestial blue.

“i don’t” as she replies, this time, they do turn to face her. soro has always been pale, but under the old fluorescent their skin looks downright transparent, a notion not diminished by the whiteness of their hair. it doesn’t help her discomfort with the creature. it’s funny because sometimes, and this is one of those times, she thinks she understands soro: they have never covered up the less nice parts of themselves, never tried to hide their own nature to pretend to be someone else. despite everything, the least she can do is respect the sunai.

maybe the respect that makes her give them one more chance at explaining.

“there are things i seek to understand” the words begin slowly, like they are still trying them. their eyes don’t leave her face “verity is a bad city. we were created to cleanse it. there are eight thousand refugees under our charge, sustaining from the left-overs of the cities. of those eight thousand, four thousand have mixed souls. that, i have come to turn a blind eye to. and of those eight thousand, one has a red soul, and is allowed to live between us”.

kate drops onto the mattress, gracelessly, her posture adopting an air of indifference. she holds their gaze, not giving in to the sunai’s pretenses. is this really all they have got to scare her? the best they can try? she has been given way too many motives to be indignant today, not counting the soro’s nerve to break into the only meter of privacy she has been assigned to insult and threaten her. it is easy to feel like they are the one wrong.

“you are starting to sound like leo”.

“i don’t know who this leo is”.

“ask august”.

they sigh, and the next words come against their own mouth, as if it were not really for her ears: “august doesn’t speak anymore”.

kate shrugs, picking a random sheet of paper from her bed. what was it about anyway? a bunch of crossing lines and dots in different colors, with small digits distributed above in intervals. the escape route.

a shadow moves around her. she finds soro lingering at her doorstep, eyes more open than usual, wearing an strange expression on their face. if she had not known him better, she could have mistaken it for sympathy, maybe even with a twitch of regret. noticing her, the sunai clenches their fist and goes back to their usual annoyed grin. they turn and they leave, but not before carelessly throwing:

“by the way, henry expects you tomorrow first hours”.

their footsteps made no sound on the ground. it was hours later that kate realized they hadn’t gave her the classical music cd back.

 

 

 

the founder of the ftf lays in a bed, hands resting on his lap and a placid, but worn-out expression on his face. on a table next to him are three little bottles filled with capsules. there were other instruments that henry must have brought from an abandoned medical facility, judging by their antiquity and use. things were never like that in the city that used to be hers, kate mused.

emily flynn is there too. she curls asleep in what must be a very uncomfortable position on an old sofa in a corner of the room. kate didn’t think she slept, with how busy she is each morning with the entire population of the city as her responsibility, but in this moment she is just human.

kate shifts her weight from one foot to the other one. she is leaving, really, when henry flynn tears away his gaze from his sleeping wife and locks eyes with her. he gives kate a nod, and she takes a step forward, carefully closing the door behind her.

henry makes a small gesture, encouraging her to come closer.

“miss kate” he smiles politely “you ought to join us more often. how are you?”

“i can come back later” she offers one last time. henry’s eyes dart towards emily again, and back at kate. the exchange lasts less than the fraction of a second, and yet his whole posture seems to have softened.

“she is a heavy sleeper”.

he pauses, but doesn’t add anything more.

yesterday, after soro’s visit, kate had pondered about what could henry flynn possibly want to talk with her. it wasn’t that they were on bad terms, not at all, ever since she had woken up in that improvised nursery wing, three months ago, feeling more dead than alive he had made it his task to ask periodically about her wellbeing and the progression of her recovery. it just wasn’t that they had easy conversations about the weather, and right now, as he is letting the silence speak for itself, kate thinks she is supposed to say something else.

"we are not doing enough” she surprises herself with her statement, her own frustration slipping and forming accusations. and yet as true as her words feel, they aren’t fair at all, because kate has seen the way emily works barely eating or taking a break, like she is not even human, and she has seen how henry commanded the units and organized the resources up until the moment in which he was unable to stand without coughing. henry doesn’t look angry. if anything, he stiffens his posture against the old headboard and moves his hands away from his lap to the sides of his bed. he is waiting for her to continue, so she forces the words to come out, while trying to keep a lighter tone. the flynns deserve at least that.

“the patrols… the rationing and counting, it isn’t enough. we are not really addressing the problems, we are just containing them and waiting for them to end on their own. i don’t think that will happen anytime soon”.

the man raises one hand, asking her to wait while he coughs. kate is no expert, but she swears each time he does it, it sounds worse.

"we are doing what we can inside the quarantine. any other path has been discarded. these people are unable to take another hit, regardless of its strength. i cannot ask that of them, not while i was a doctor, and much less being... like this”.

a cold realization crawls its way to her bones:

"you are giving up”.

henry shakes his head, careful of not doing it too quickly. he still coughes on one pale arm. kate tries to think on anything else but the dying man in front of her and the empty void he will leave behind.

she waits, until out of his vague attempts at speaking comes a voice: "I am... not giving up" he pauses, steading himself "it is a reality”.

kate tries to say something, and opens and closes her mouth a couple of times unsuccessfully. she should have seen this coming. but surely he knows better than that there is only one way of saving the city that one day was meant to be hers. they could search for answers outside, and weren’t for the guards… the quarantine. the phenomenon remains as mysterious as the first morning afterwards, and what ties the monsters to their locations is too important of a subject to be risked: are they only born within the confines of the city, or are they limited to the citizens? to carry plan b they need someone who would not endanger the outside world, someone who is unable to create more monsters, a completely red stained soul.

kate moves towards the door, feeling the mood for conversation over. she lets her hand rest in the door handle before turning to henry:

“why did you ask for me to come here?” at this he gives an easier, less polite, more genuine smile. it brings out his wrinkles, but it is fine.

“i felt the urge to check up on you. i know it hasn’t been easy for any of us, but i dare to say you were one of the most affected. call it fatherly instict perhaps, but i’m not that surprised to see that something has been eating you” he sighs “i just hope i haven’t tormented you much”.

“no, you… I-“ she cuts herself and tries again “I am sorry, mister flynn” for my father, for the city, for the end, for ilsa, for leo. for august.

“there is nothing to be sorry for. you have a good heart, kate. take care of yourself” she nods, a strange lump on her throat bothering her. she wishes to tell him something else, but maybe he already knows. yes, that would have to be sufficient.

kate leaves the flynn’s room and walks through the family’s floor without sparing a look to the other smaller rooms. she can barely remember going inside the elevator and then changing buildings until she is inside the minuscule box and grabbing her bags. what she is doing cannot be considered packing. she is mostly just stuffing two or three changes of clothes inside a bag. then, she cleans the room. takes away the city plans and notes from the wall, makes the bed, throws the remaining cds… no. she leaves the cds on the mattress. moving the bed to the corner, she finally allows herself a moment to breath.

_where are you, kate?_

soon, somewhere better.

 

 

 

"i was wondering when you'd run away" a soft, melodic voice reaches her as she takes another smaller alleyway taking her to the outskirts of the city. she tries to ignore him, but finds herself pressing her step forwards. she still needs to walk for eighteen blocks before finding the smallest and easiest to evade security post. unless… she pulls a wrinkled paper from her jacket, analyzing the almost unintelligible traces. no, this is the only way.

kate adjusts her scarf around her mouth and continues. his footsteps follow her in an almost perfect silence. she bets they are audible only because he wants her to know he is there. would he pose a problem? would he tattle her out? she doubts he cares enough. he doesn’t even have a reason to talk to her anymore.

“kate” the voice tries again.

maybe it’s the fact that she had been a monster for a while as well, but the sunai’s ability to make her spill out everything on her mind is not as strong as she remembers. it’s strange how she is able to pick out those small details now.

she walks a block more, making sure her pace has more determination than the one she currently has. her fingernails leave deeper marks on her hands every time she feels him getting closer. she wonders what he is thinking of her. would his face betray anything at all, like soro’s did the other day? a hint of disappointment or could it be anger? but then again, soro is much more human than august is.

she hears him stop half a block later.

“don’t leave the city. don’t leave us”.

kate whistles, unable to help herself:

“that’s real gold coming from you”.

and she stops because of course she does. kate’s hands turns into fists at her sides, but her body does not turn. she hears him draw a sharp breath behind her.

“help me understand, if you aren’t coming back”.

she should go, but her boots will not move from the paved sidewalk. it takes her a moment to recognize she has wanted this conversation for a while. more than that, she needs to have it, or else she will lack the closure to make the decisions she will have to. so, one last time in order to tie the loose ends, like her father would say. she is coming back but she just doesn’t know… she turns to face him.

“i’m going to find help. and don’t say it’s not necessary” she cuts him as he opens his mouth to protest “if i have survived, it is to do something. if i stay here, doing nothing, i might as well be dead”.

"no, that's not true” and she sees she was wrong. there is something underneath the surface, after all. august is… distraught. "

you are doing something here. we are doing something here: step by step, verity heals”.

"do you really believe that?" she doesn't wait for an answer and she gives a step back, suddenly uncomfortable with their closeness. her voice grows crisper "no, you can't possibly do it”.

august breaks eye contact with her, reacting to her tone, and looks at the ground in complete silence. she takes that moment of weakness to study him. to the hidden exhaustion between his shoulders, to the blood-stained clothes he wears and the used violin case on his back. there is no trace of the child she had met less than two years ago at that awful private school, but it is common knowledge at the barracks that the battles they are fighting leave no children, only survivors.

maybe she should feel bad about snapping at him. maybe it feels way too good to be the only one that dares to tell him that he needs to stop.

she takes a breath and asks softly: “what happened to you, august?”

“you knew i was ready to accept it if it meant-“

“i would have rather died than seeing you sacrifice yourself”

whatever reaction her declaration could have sparked, dies too quickly and his eyes are as unreadable and empty as before.

“i am… trying” he pauses before adding in a less trained tone: “i liked the cd. i wanted to thank you, but you were gone”

damn soro.

kate turns around and walks for some meters before she feels a hand grabbing her wrist, and red blurs her vision. forget loose ends, she can feel this conversation draining her. maybe she is leaving for good, after all.

“kate-” he starts, staring to sound desperate.

“no, you don’t understand!” she points her finger at him “you can't leave and i am unable to stay. can't you see? there's no end to this.”

"there is. don't leave”.

she debates whether punching his stubbornness away would change anything when she hears footsteps coming from above. august and kate need only to exchange a quick look before throwing themselves to the ground and staying as close as possible, together in a corner between an empty, open container and the wall. from this position, neither of them can see the whoever came, just the light of his flashlight illuminating the alleyway. kate doesn’t dare to exhale loudly while she sees the light getting closer and barely missing their hideout.

after some minutes, the guy leaves and she can breath in again.

august has a similar reaction, and she feels him when she turns towards him, and his breath tickles her cheeks. she feels him relaxing his body before he tenses again, for a completely different motive.

kate blinks and tries to remember what she is doing there. ah, yes, tying lose ends in the darkness with a(n) (almost) boy she may have once grown to love. she waits for august to pull back, to stand up and insist that nothing is wrong. he doesn’t. he just stays there, looking lost and infinitely vulnerable. he is the most august she had seen in so many months it makes her chest ache.

their position isn’t entirely comfortable but it is enough for kate, she convinces herself as she closes the distance between their faces and kisses him. 

she doesn’t press her lips against his for more than a couple of seconds, and hopes it is enough to remind him of another times and tells him what he needs to know without many wasted words. 

 

 

 

"do you still want to be human, august?”

they walk silently next to each other, and he stays silent, his gaze still drifting between the city blocks, her eyes and her mouth.

"a monster who dreams has no place in this world”

she keeps waiting and lets her scowl show all the irritation she feels. august scoffs and shakes his head from side to side, the dark curls bouncing on his forehead. he seems to actually take her question seriously and she lets him wonder about it. they are close to the city’s limits, but she still wants to hear him say it before she leaves.

"i... i don't think that matters anymore, kate” she doesn’t know if she is actually hearing hope there, or maybe she is just looking for things that don’t exist. she holds onto her first impression and decides that august is not as lost as he could be.

after all, from now on she will be chasing answers that no one else had found around the whole world, so she should get used to hope. it will keep her alive. it will save them.

“it will” she promises him, reaching the limits “keep everyone alive while i come back”.

like that, she runs and doesn’t look back.

 

 

 

(august reaches henry's bed, standing opposite to emily's smaller-than-ever frame, but doesn't take his free hand. his soul - bright, pure, good - is flickering enough on its own, dancing at the compass of an imperceptible wind.

"i'm trying” he says, to no one in particular.

“i know you do"

.

.

.

.

)

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be the epilogue to “La Esperanza Debida”, but due to the months it spent unfinished in my laptop, it turned out differently and in my opinion more in tune with canon. So while one could read it as a stand alone in which Kate survives “Our Dark Duet” but August still loses himself, you could also read it as the sequel to my previous one-shot, erasing the last paragraph. 
> 
> However, “weight of living” should have a sequel (a nicer sequel, I promise!) that tackles the origins of the monsters and the phenomenon (which aren’t quite explored in the books and I have a couple of head-canons for) and Kate’s quest for answers- an idea that, mind you, earned enough place at my head that I couldn’t get it out. On the other side, I recognize that I might not write it so if any of you wishes to, you could. I am really looking forward to read it.


End file.
